


Thank You For Staying

by terryreviews



Series: Ezira and Anthony [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Ezira can get what he wants, and what he wants is for you to let him buy you a jacket.





	Thank You For Staying

**Author's Note:**

> Pure indulgence and fluff. That is what this is. Yes, this is moving fast and maybe I'm having a bit of an issue with consistency in Reader's personality (Because even though it is the Reader, there needs to be a glimmer of personality to cling to) but ultimately this is about being indulgent and having fun. I love these two so I'm writing something that makes me happy. I hope it makes you happy as well. :)

Snacks were a poor substitution for a meal you realized when one o'clock rolled around and your stomach gave an obnoxious, squeltching growl. Before you had a chance to be embarrassed, Ezira got up and went to the player.

“Lunch time, I think,” the disc popped out and he added to Anthony, “you remember the episode we were on?” The other nodded.

Anthony raised his hand above your head and pointed down at you, “after lunch, jacket.”

“Agreed.” Ezira snapped the case of the DVD shut and turned to you, “where would you like to eat Y/N?”

You shrank inside. Except for fast food, you couldn't name a restaurant. Let alone enough of them to have options.

You mustered, “I don't have a preference.”

As if sensing your discomfort, Anthony jumped in, “what about that Italian place? Tried it last month.”

Ezira lit up, “perfect.” He immediately headed to the stairs, “I'll get our coats and meet you by the door,” and left down the stairs. Looks like you weren't the only person who was hungry. You couldn't help smile to yourself and when you caught Anthony's eye, neither could he.

“Come on, he's probably already by the door bouncing on his feet.” Anthony said on the verge of laughing.

Sure enough, Ezira already had his coat on, and draped over each of his arms, your hoodie, Anthony's jacket.

Soon, you were in the backseat of the Bentley. While the heat was on, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling moderately cold. For the past few hours, you'd been snuggled up, under a blanket, with two beautiful men. Now, you were in the backseat of the car, and a brief but potent pang of alone hit you. You saw them in the front seat, as they chatted, adjusted the radio to something quiet and classical (Ezira must've picked it), and Anthony take Ezira's hand in his, place a kiss to the back of it before giving back, and then finally pulling off. You were the interloper. Yes, they had just been snuggling you, yes they both had kissed your cheeks, and yes, a year ago you had a one night stand with Anthony. But the distinct impression of _this won't lead to anything. A quick fuck for their entertainment and then you'll be out again_ hit you.

You sensed no ill intent from either of them, you knew these thoughts were from your subconscious fears, that you were projecting onto them. The ice had been broken and while only a few days knowing either of them wasn't much, you  _knew_ in your heart what you had begun to feel. And you hated it. You hated how already you began to yearn for them. 

However, despite the speed of everything, it felt good. It felt good when they kissed your cheeks, it felt good to laugh with them, to be pressed against them. You felt  _right _ with them.

Even if it never progressed passed snuggles, passed little kisses and flirtation, you'd be more than happy to have their friendship. So long as they continued to like what they saw. You hoped. You still hadn't been overly forward about yourself. Hadn't really had much conversation at all really. Most of the time, they did the talking while you basked in their generous affection.  _Third wheel_ floated to your mind again before you squashed it down and were yanked from thoughts all together when Anthony did a sharp turn that flung you into the seat.

–

Fine fabrics, imported and ready to be tailored. An expansive glass case full of expensive, sparkling rocks set into gold and silver took up an impressive amount of floor space. Perfume bottles in creative shapes were placed amongst displays of flowers and branches.

It reeked of old fashioned class. Much too rich for your blood, you thought, as you wandered in your sneakers and hoodie behind Ezira and Anthony.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Anthony asked Ezira who was currently flipping through a rack.

“Absolutely,” he pulled out something that caught his eyes, “this is one of the best shops in the city.” Ezira turned to you, “what is your favorite color?”

“Uh, I like purple, red, black.”

Aziraphale went back to the rack.

You stood there for a few moments before chiming in.

“You don't have to buy me a jacket. You already paid for lunch.”

“That was because you gave us those lovely gifts.” Ezira answered absently as he plucked several things from the rack and draped them over his arm.

In the weeks you spent _not_ returning Anthony's jacket, you job hunted and whilst doing that, found a little shop of handmade goodies.

There were other home goods in there but you snagged a couple of decorative tins of hot chocolate and tea with adorable kittens and flowers for Ezira and for Anthony...well, the shop wasn't exactly _him_ but in your searching you found some of their Halloween stuff and a black mug with blood splatters and the words “Bite Me” was added to your bag.

They were small, simple and not enough for all they'd done. But the woman who had painted the tins and the man that made the mug were so enthusiastic about your purchase that you couldn't regret it and hoped that Ezira and Anthony would like them and understand it was really all you could afford to show your appreciation.

Now, though, you were shopping in this incredibly expensive clothing store and al you had was a few cents in your pocket.

“But a plate of pasta is one thing. A,” you caught one of the tags in your finger and brandished it at the man like an accusation, “two hundred pound jacket is another. I don't have that kind of money.”

“We do,” Anthony said from a near by stack of hats, admiring his reflection in one of the stand mirrors as he plopped a feathered fedora on his head. “Might get this one.”

Ezira looked at him, “oh yes. Please do. Looks spectacular on you dearest and you haven't worn hats in ages.”

Anthony bowed his head a fraction but there was no hiding that bashful smile.

You cleared your throat softly and said, “I'm...I'm not sure where this is all going, but I'm not looking for sugar daddies.”

Ezira began holding up some of the coats to you, intent on imagining you in one or another.

“I would hope not. I'd like to think you were,” he put one coat back on the rack before holding up another, “attracted to our personalities.”

“And bodies!” Anthony added, coming around to take the coats from Ezira and put them back on the rack when he was done, freeing the other's arms up so he could hold both shoulders of the garments and picture you in them better.

“And bodies,” Ezira agreed, putting down a third jacket, “rather than our purses.”

“Wallets angel.”

“Whatever. The point is, neither of us thought you were here for money,” when he saw you about to speak he pressed on, “nor were we trying to ply your thighs apart with it.”

You swallowed at that, trying to take a step back but bumping into a table with trousers on it, thus trapped.

“We have money. I enjoy shopping, particularly for clothing. You are freezing. If we are going to be friends, then consider this as catching up on birthdays and Christmas.” Ezira had tried several jackets and began sifting through them again after he was finished. The affectionate, yet firm finality in his words left you little room to argue.

Still, you tried, “it makes me feel cheap though. I don't need a jacket. I can just wear more layers. It's my fault I never bought one in the first place. I could have gotten a much cheaper one when they went on clearance in the spring or something. You don't need to help me out because I did something stupid.”

Anthony and Ezira both looked at you with a strange expression that was hard to place but perhaps amused?

“You're not going to talk him out of it,” Anthony said, slinking an arm around Ezira's shoulders, “if you don't let him get it for you now, he'll get it when you leave and give it to you later. Either way, he's buying it. Might as well do what I do and give up, let us take care of you sweetheart. It's cold and it'll just get colder. Right?” He said to his husband.

“That's correct. So please, Y/N, no more arguing. You're not cheap, you're not being a burden, I want to get this for you. Let me, let us, be nice to you. We don't expect anything from you save your company my dear.”

Your eyes began to blur and you hastily wiped them on your hoodie sleeve, tugging up the hood and shoving both hands in your pockets.

Thankfully, neither of them drew attention to this and several minutes later, Ezira led you gently by the elbow to the back where the tailor was.

–

“Don't you look darling!” Ezira praised the second you were finished, clapping his hands in excitement before hurrying to the register to pay for the jacket and hour of labor, pulling out what looked to be a coin purse or pouch from his pocket, “his hat too if you would,” you could hear him say.

While he was doing that, Anthony circled you, your hoodie in his arms, “hmm, angel has good taste. Looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” you kept your eyes on the floor, fidgeting with your hands before shoving those too into your faux fur lined pockets.

“Ready to go?” Ezira returned and the three of you made your way out of the door.

While it was still very cold outside, you had to admit, it was much more bearable this time. The attachable hood was snug around your head, also lined with faux fur, so your head wasn't ice cold. Your ears personally thanked Ezira's insistence.

“Back to the shop?” Anthony opened both your's and Ezira's doors with a snap. Car must be automated or something.

“I suppose so. Sound good to you?” Ezira looked at you in the rear view mirror and you looked away from the intensity of their affection.

“Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

With that, you were back at the shop. Full, warm, and with plenty of day still left given the early start, you had even more time to enjoy their company.

And what you did? Watched more tv and laughed. However, as the day turned to evening and then to night, you found yourself in the backroom where you'd originally taken your nap accepting a wine glass that Ezira had poured for you.

“We've never had a guest to one of our drinking sessions before,” Ezira handed Anthony his glasses while the lankier man perched himself on the arm of the couch.

“First time for anything,” Anthony already began to drink as Ezira took his seat at his desk and you sat in the arm chair between them.

“So, what do you usually do?”

“Get drunk and talk,” Anthony already gotten up and picked up an unopened bottle (Ezira had brought several out) and went back to his perch, popping out the cork with barely a flick of his wrist. You got the feeling he was only using the glass to be polite as he set it down on the cushion next to him with the cork shoved back into place.

“What do you usually talk about?”

Ezira swallowed a mouthful of his own drink, small and savoring, “Oh, anything really.”

“Anything?” You still held your glass between your fingers, “life, the universe, and everything? Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,” you added when Ezira gave a confused tilt of his head.

“The books, the radio dramas, the tv show, or the movie?” Anthony, polished off his second glass in two large gulps, but didn't move to refill it yet, noting with his eyes how you hadn't even touched your's yet.

“The quote's in all of them so, I guess all.”

“Which adaptation do you prefer?”

“Adams worked on everything but the movie so they all have equal value in that regard, but I suppose I like the books the most. I also like the old tv show. Dated but fun. Dressed up as Ford for a convention,” you smiled at that before curling back into yourself. Test the waters. These were refined gentleman after all. Somehow you didn't think they knew about cosplay, conventions, fandom in general aside from clandestinely.

“Convention? Oh, I go to a convention myself once a year. A gathering of lecturers, sellers, and buyers of books. Is it similar to that?”

Your lip quirked, “not unless half of the crowd is dressed up as anime characters and attending panels about the history of various fandoms.”

Ezira thought about this for a moment, “there have been a few times where individuals show up as authors of, or characters from, classic literature. I have never felt inclined to dressed up in costume save for one year when the theme of the event in question was Phantom of the Opera and we had a good old fashioned masquerade. And there are lectures given on various subjects. One, I recall, was something I got into quite the heated discussion about. Shakespeare and why he's over rated. Still ruffles my feathers just thinking about it.”

You couldn't help it but laugh, you held up your glass and said, “to nerds! We come in all shapes and sizes.”

The two smiled and raised their glasses, even though Anthony had yet to refill his. You took a sip of your wine. Given you weren't much of a drinker, all you really could taste was the alcohol. At least it didn't burn much and you liked the feeling of inclusion.

Ezira brought the conversation around again, “I don't believe I've ever read this Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy before. What is it about?”

For the next few hours, you sipped, you talked, and as the alcohol worked through your system (you were tempted into a few glasses at least and found that some of the other vintages were much more fruity than the first one) you became at ease.

You told them of your interests and hobbies, of how you lost your job and were still searching for a new one, growing more desperate as the bills were past due, and they listened, chimed in with their own stories that made you laugh and smile and coo. Like their first kiss, their private wedding (it was just going down to an office and signing a paper really, no guests, but there were rings and cake) and other topics like movies and books they enjoyed.

By the end, you were tipsy. Pleasantly so, and the three of you had migrated to the upstairs flat through swayed steps and slurred giggles, and fell into the overly large bed, fully clothed. None of you were in a state to go anywhere, and you honestly didn't want to leave. It made more sense to stay.

“Thank you for staying,” Ezira mumbled into your hair, eyes closed as he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his front while Anthony curled along your back, wrapping his long arms around both you and Ezira, already fast asleep.

“Thanks for having me.”


End file.
